Where To Begin
by girl in the glen
Summary: A circle of intrigue, but where does it begin?
….

Napoleon Solo was not a man given over to unnecessary sentimentality. He knew the score, knew that sometimes life threw you a curveball that couldn't be hit, not even by the likes of UNCLE's top agent.

Illya Kuryakin was also aware of the consequences of the life he and his partner lived. A life on the edge of acceptability. When Napoleon walked into a room full of well dressed people, he was one of them. Urbane and sophisticated, the man never seemed to give off that air of danger that would alert decent people to the darkness in his life.

 _Killer? Never, that man doesn't look like a killer._

 _Spy… maybe, he's so handsome._

Illya had no delusions about his own appearance. He wasn't what could be called typical; especially not here in America. He had passed as one of their own while in Europe, even with a Soviet background he was able to hide himself behind existentialist appearance and mingle with the Paris crowd, recite poetry in a London pub full of the Angry Young Men of the 50's.

America had it's challenges, however. The accent, the hair… all of it screamed Foreigner to some, exotic and dangerous to others. No, he didn't get away with it like Napoleon could.

But, back to the life.

As they waited for someone to come into the waiting room and give them the news concerning Elizabeth Prudy, each man was reviewing the events of the day. The young woman had happened into their world quite by accident, and immediately they had seized upon her as the perfect Innocent for the job at hand. Just a little distraction, they thought, and the job would be done.

 _"Oh, I am so sorry. I hope that won't make a stain on your jacket." The young woman had bumped into Napoleon and spilled her drink on him. It was only 7UP, so no stain for Del Floria's to clean. But she was perfect for what he needed._

 _"It will be fine.' He extended his hand to hers. "Napoleon Solo… at your service." The smile won her over without so much as a skirmish._

 _"Oh, my… um… I am Elizabeth Prudy. And I'm so sorry about …' she held up her cup and smiled. She was very pretty. 'I'm just so clumsy at times."_

 _Illya was watching, observing the predictable meltdown of all apprehension concerning a perfect stranger. Napoleon's gift was his charm, no question about it._

 _The conversation continued, the charm bubbling over until she was consumed by it and agreeable to the little favor he requested. All she had to do was repeat the same little clumsy action that had introduced her to Solo, only spill it on the man sitting on the far side of the restaurant; the one at the piano bar._

 _She agreed, curious about such a strange request but enamored of the man making it. The whole thing sounded like a lark, and Elizabeth was adventurous. After all, spilling that drink had not been an accident._

 _While she crossed the room and approached their target, Illya did the same, only on the opposite side of the big room. The girl just needed to get close enough to distract the man and allow Kuryakin to slip a homing device into his pocket. It was simple._

 _It should have worked._

"Mr. Solo?"

"Yes doctor. How is Elizabeth, is she…?" The look on the surgeon's face told him all he needed to know. Illya stood up next to his friend, the sinking sense of despair a twin to that in Napoleon's stomach.

"We did everything we could. She never regained consciousness."

Napoleon thought he might pass out from the punch of that statement. How was this possible. She had merely passed by the man, spilling the drink and…

 _Solo watched as Elizabeth played her part perfectly, spilling the drink on the unsuspecting THRUSH agent while Illya slipped the little tracking device into his jacket pocket. It was over in a matter of seconds, and Elizabeth even sweetened the deal by a subtle flirtation with the willing victim._

 _As Kuryakin and Elizabeth made the trip around the perimeter of the restaurant Napoleon was still watching Deemer, their target. He froze momentarily as the THRUSH looked around the room, spotting Illya and then zeroing in on the girl._

 _In one nightmarish moment, another man stood up and grabbed Elizabeth as she passed by. Illya was caught by surprise as a third THRUSH seized him and attempted to strong-arm him out of the restaurant. Napoleon was heading directly towards Elizabeth when she screamed and fell to the floor. The restaurant, already noisy with the evening crowd of diners, fell silent before erupting into a frenzied outburst of fearful observers to a suddenly violent scene._

 _Illya turned, no longer caring about making a scene. He assaulted the THRUSH with a blow that knocked him out completely. He saw Napoleon heading towards Elizabeth and caught sight of the man who had shot her. He didn't stop to ask himself why they should have thought it necessary to shoot anyone, especially her. The pursuit was on, taking him through the kitchen and out the back door into an alley filled with boxes and garbage cans. It was a U-shaped trap for the man being pursued, and when he turned to see the UNCLE agent in the doorway he fired off a shot. It was off by inches as a bullet pierced his temple._

Napoleon was shaken by the doctor's words, as was Illya. Innocent victims were a calculated risk on any given day, but not usually because of their actions. Elizabeth had willingly offered her services, but she would never have dreamed of the consequences, not had the two men who now stood in shock at this tragic turn of events.

 _At a THRUSH enclave of the city's top chiefs, the name of Elizabeth Purdy came up._

 _"She was supposed to lure Solo into a trap, not become part of an UNCLE sting. How did this happen?" Jacob Levine wanted answers, and he wanted to know who had been responsible for this foul up._

 _"The shooter is dead, Jake. Elizabeth whispered something to Nathan when she spilled that drink, but he's in custody now. I'm sorry Jake, I know you and Elizabeth… She did manage to drop a listening device into Solo's pocket, and … Elizabeth is dead Jake. She didn't make it."_

 _Jacob Levine was a cold hearted killer, but he had loved Elizabeth as much as anyone could given the depths of his own depravity. THRUSH did something to a man's soul, but somehow there had been just enough light left in him to recognize the sweet soul she had been. He had sent her in without telling her who he was, only that it would be a practical joke on a friend. She wasn't THRUSH, she was innocent. He had only himself to blame._

Napoleon and Illya left the hospital with their contact information, hopeful that Elizabeth's family could be found… and what? How would they explain this to a grieving family?

 _Elizabeth's supervisor had heard the entire scene play out, right up until the time the doctors in the ER called her death. How would he explain this to the Director?_


End file.
